Lost and Found
by Sam M. Holmes
Summary: A series of drabbles on our beloved Hawkeyes. Both of them. Past Clintasha, Clint/Bobbi, and Hawkeye/Torunn.


Avengers are awesome. In every form. Just to clarify, I believe that Hawkeye is around sixteen in the Next Avengers. I'm adjusting. If it seems a little AU, sorry. It's been while. So… past Clintasha, Clint/Bobbi, and Torunn/Hawkeye.

Marvel owns all.

The Underground

Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, propped his heels up on the table, folding his arms over his chest. He watched the other Avengers arguing excitedly about Ultron. Tony looked sheepishly away from the group. It was his entire fault anyway, and Barton could care less that he garnered the blame. As of late, Barton was pissed with everything. Bobbi shot him a concerned look form across the table. He shrugged, picking at his nails. Her enlarged stomach had stopped her participation in battle. He wasn't going to hide it; he loved the Mockingbird. Then why was there that horrible, _jealous _pain crouching in the pit of his stomach.

Steve paced, gesticulating his plans. Natasha was right behind him, hand resting on her own belly. She was only a little earlier than Bobbi. The couple had been ecstatic. Steve never dreamed of having a child. The wars got in the way. Bobbi hadn't told Barton until he started noticing her added weight. "We've fought robots before. This should be a breeze…" Steve thought aloud.

"Verily, but this is a metal man of Stark's design. Mayhaps we should consider another option…" Thor folded his hands on the table. He turned to Tony. "Do you wish to salvage it?"

"This thing is far too dangerous to keep, Thor," Banner scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his cheeks.

"Bruce is right…" Tony tapped a finger against his temple. "I created this thing, and I won't be able to contain it forever." Breathing slowly, he finally added, "Let's shut it down."

Steve looked around the room. "Do we all agree?" They all nodded solemnly. Janet took Hank's hand, smiling slightly. The sooner this was over, the better they all would feel. "Meeting adjourned," Steve ended. One by one, the Avengers disassembled, minds reeling with this Ultron thing. Bobbi smiled lightly at Barton, planting a soft kiss into his spiked, blonde hair. He smiled back, whispering a good night. Soon it was only Steve and Natasha along with the archer. "I think I'm about ready to retire. Tasha?" Steve offered his hand. The assassin shook her head politely.

"I'll be along in a bit," Natasha sat down across from Hawkeye. Steve seemed satisfied and left the room. The two assassins watched each other, waiting for confirmation that they were the only two left. After a few minutes, Natasha spoke. "What do you want, Barton?"

Clint sat up straight, removing his legs so he could see her better. "I don't want anything."

"Bullshit. What's your deal, Hawk?" Natasha snapped.

Barton stood slowly. "Nothing is my deal, _Widow_." He never called her that.

"Why were you staring at me?"

Barton felt a lump grow in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, slightly choking on the words. "I wasn't…"

"Are we going to do this all night, Barton? Because I have to return to my husband." Natasha rounded, heading straight for the door. Clint jumped, grabbing her arm in his hand. Natasha's open palm smacked the side of his face, but Clint held on. "Let me go, Barton."

"I still love you, Nat."

Natasha froze. "Clint…"

Clint's mouth hung slack. Did he seriously just say that? "I…" With a twist, he leaned down, covering her mouth with his. Natasha stiffened, trapped hand moving viciously. She stayed as a wall against his advances. Reluctantly, Clint pulled away. "I'm sorry. It ends now. I have a baby to think about…" He released her arm, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

It was then that Clint Barton lost his heart.

* * *

"_Bobbi!_" Clint screamed, loosing his arrow at another robot. He ran towards her, firing shot after shot at Ultron. He had to stop him. Bobbi was in Ultron's arms, bent entirely in half. Blood streamed between his metal fingers. Bobbi's screams had stopped. In a fit of rage, Clint flew at the robot, bow arching. Ultron turned suddenly, catching his bow with one metal hand. Bobbi tumbled from his arms and hit the ground. Clint's head snapped forward from the force.

"Foolish archer. Did you think you could save her?" Ultron mocked. Clint screamed in anguish, releasing his bow to flip backward. No sooner than he had landed and was preparing to strike, Ultron's metal hand found his throat. His larynx was crushed as Ultron swung him around, slamming him into the wreckage. Clint struggled, clawing at the hands, but to no avail. He narrowed his eyes, ready to face death.

"The Scavengers will take care of him, Bobbi," Clint promised her. His voice was cracking. He knew he was close. His mind filtered back to before Ultron, before everything. He remembered the first time the Avengers had truly assembled. He had scars from Loki's neglect and his leaps and falls. That was when he had Natasha. He knew that she would never love him as he loved her, but they had tried. Whether it had been in vain or not, for a while, Clint was complete. Now, he loved Bobbi Morse. She was his wife, but he couldn't help but remember the past. "I love you…" He managed. Clint was on the brink of unconsciousness. That's when he heard the blast. Ultron released him, spinning on his heels. Iron Man knocked him off his feet, damaging his own suit in the process. Clint gasped for air, but didn't move. He lay flat, waiting for his death to come. He didn't want to fight anymore. Tears stung the side of his battered face.

"Clint! Get out of here!" announced Janet, shooting Ultron as he persued Tony. "You have to protect Francis! Go!" Clint turned his head weakly. He did. Had to protect him. With a grunt, he leapt to his feet. He could already feel the bruising that covered his jugular. He raced toward the safe building, dodging bullets and energy blasts. One blast clipped him, burning into his arm. He cried out, but kept running. As he ran inside, he activated the switches. They began to beep. He managed to get into the tunnels before the entire building exploded down around him. His eyes adjusted to the dark, betraying the survivors and one particularly small boy. He was six at the time, white hair a shocking contrast to the dark world around him. The corner of Clint's mouth twitched into a reassuring smile before he crumpled. The world spun into darkness.

He woke up an hour later.

The Scavengers had fashioned him a cot, one on either side of him, as they moved down the tunnel. Clint moved carefully, moaning to announce his awakening. Suddenly, Francis was at his side, fingers looping around his calloused hands. The Scavengers stopped, deciding that they needed to break. Clint was gently placed on the ground. He sat up, nodding a thanks to the Scavengers. They disappeared down the tunnel a ways. Once they were gone, Clint fell apart. His hands found his son, yanking him to his chest. Francis wrapped his tiny arms around his father, confused, but ready to comfort.

"Dad, where's mom?"

Clint buried his face in Francis's short white hair, letting the tears go. "They're gone. All of them…" Francis didn't, at the time, realize what the gravity of the situation was. He didn't realize until later that they had lost. He didn't even truly understand where his mother was. He just nodded in a faux understanding, letting his father hug him. Clint had to be sure that he was real. Had to hang on.

That was when Clint Barton lost his mind.

* * *

Francis Barton blew out the candle with a flourish, smiling widely. The Scavengers cheered. He was fourteen. One of his best friends, Lane, clapped a hand to his back.

"Happy birthday, Barton!" he whistled. "You're getting old, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Lane," Francis rolled his eyes. "Where's dad?"

"Patrol. He'll be back soon," quipped one of the older men.

Francis nodded. It was normal. For eight years, they had been holed up underground. This year, he was finally going to be able to see the surface. His dad had promised him. And the older Hawkeye kept his promises. The other Scavenger had begun to tear at the sweet bread that served as a birthday cake. Francis managed to grab a piece before returning to their side of the hall. Quivers and bows were strung across the pillars, held up by masterly tied rope. Francis picked up his own bow, smoothing a hand over the arch. He had gotten it last year. He couldn't help but wonder what his dad had planned for him this year.

The patrol returned on time, but in dwindling numbers. They had left with seven armed soldiers and had returned with three. One of the patrol had a gaping hole in his leg left by an energy bolt. The other two supported him. Francis looped his bow around his neck, running to meet them.

"Dad! You…"

Clint Barton wasn't with them.

"Where's…?" Francis implored. "Where is he?"

The men looked at each other sadly, bowing their heads in mourning.

Francis knew that gesture all too well.

"No. You're lying. Where is he?" Francis demanded. He pushed past them, looking straight into the tunnel. "It's not funny, Dad! Come out!" No response. "Dad!" Pain set in, creeping up into his stomach and making him sick. "Dad!"

"Francis…" Lane was suddenly at his side, sweet bread long forgotten.

"No! He's not… No!" Francis shook his head in disbelief, tears forming behind his eyes.

"We tried to help him, but he was too exposed," one of the patrolmen went on. "We got made. They knew we were coming. Hawkeye was shot and killed instantly. We tried to get to his body, but by then, only us three remained." Francis watched him, mouth agape with shock.

"No…" he moaned. He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to push back the sorrow. He was still shaking his head. Lane offered him an arm. With a shudder, Francis fit himself in Lane's arms, crying awkwardly into his chest. "He can't be gone, Lane! He's… he's the last Avenger." Lane opened his mouth to say something, but thought against it. After a few more moments, Francis separated, rubbing tears and snot from his face using his sleeve. "I'm alright."

"With Hawkeye dead, who is going to protect us?" a female warrior whispered. It was meant to be under her breath, but Francis heard it as clear as day. His father had created the Scavengers, and it was he who kept them safe. Francis stiffened, straightening his back.

"From now on, I _am_ Hawkeye," Francis hissed. He shooed the others from his side, tearing across the hanging curtain. Lane passed him a hopeful, encouraging smile. Francis ignored it, immediately going to his father's bows. Francis choked back another sob, hand flying to his mouth. He cleared his eyes over and over again, ripping a fist over his eyelids. He felt like he was being weighed down, forced to either lay down or fight. And he was going to fight.

Ultron was going to die.

It was then that Francis Barton found his purpose.

* * *

"And then he handed me the helmet!" Torunn grinned excitedly. She took off the helmet, tossing it back and forth between her hands. Electricity crackled around her long hair, the blonde strands tossed over one shoulder. She replaced the helmet, swinging the sword in a replay of their battle. "We told them we would smite them! And so we did!" Torunn couldn't suppress the giggles.

James smirked, leaning up against the wall. They had taken Bruce's calm home and made it their headquarters before they headed back to Ultra City. Tony was tired. Pym was passed out on a cot, snoring blissfully. James nodded once, acknowledging that he was in fact trying to listen to Torunn. He was tinkering with his shield generator, jiggling a screwdriver back and forth in the mechanism. Azari tossed a grape into his mouth. They were all thankful for the fresh food.

Hawkeye was the only one actively listening to Torunn. He nodded at the appropriate times, laughed in triumph along with her. His bow was balanced over his knees. Torunn grinned at him, swinging her sword at another invisible enemy. Hawkeye stood up, joining her in battle. The teens swung their weapons, decapitating robots left and right. Torunn bumped into Hawkeye, releasing a savage grunt. James tore his head away from the generator.

"Shh! Pym's asleep!" James warned. Both Torunn and Hawkeye froze, enemies long forgotten.

"I apologize, James. It was but a jest. I mean, it was just fun…" Torunn corrected herself. "I shall retire for the night." Balancing the sword in one hand, she put the other one on Hawkeye's arm. "Thank you for battling at my side. And for staying." She pressed a light kiss to his cheek, freezing him in his tracks. Her lips were soft against his weathered skin, and he could feel his cheeks beginning to warm. "Good night." And she was gone, disappeared into her room.

Hawkeye reached up to graze his cheek, memorizing the feeling of her lips. James stared at him with disinterest, slamming closed his generator. Azari had dropped his grapes, mouth open with a mix of horror and disbelief. Hawkeye shot him a cocky look, looping his arrow over his shoulders.

"What? Never been kissed, Azari?" Hawkeye mocked.

Azari regained his composure, scowling. "Whatever." He picked up his grapes, retreating into his own rooms. "Night, James." He purposely bumped his shoulder into Hawkeye, pausing only slightly, eyes crackling. Hawkeye kept his cocky grin until he was completely gone. He turned, meeting James's critical eyes.

"What? You either?" Hawkeye snapped.

"Barton, she's my sister," James ignored him. "You hurt her. I'll kill you." Then with a nod, James retreated towards his bedroom. He stopped to tuck the blanket up to Pym's chest. The youngest Avenger mewled softly, shifting to his back. James looked up again. "I mean it." With his blessing given, James disappeared.

Hawkeye nodded curtly after him. He was surprised that James, of all people, would even allow him near Torunn. But he had his warnings. And he had no intention to hurt her. Ever. Since the moment he saw Torunn, a strange tugging had erupted in his chest. He needed to be around her, to be with her at all times. It eased the ache, but today it was worse than before. His heart pounded, and his cheek burned. With a slight smirk, Hawkeye followed into Torunn's 'chambers'.

Torunn had her back to the door, rummaging through a duffel that Tony had provided. Her armor lay off to the side, discarded and forgotten. Her sword was leaning against the wall, helmet balanced atop it. She wore a loose, cotton t-shirt with comfortable sweats. It was almost gratifying for Hawkeye to see her in Midgardian clothes. He felt closer to her. Gently, he stepped inside her room, placing his bow and quiver by the doorjamb. Torunn whipped around, reaching for her sword. Hawkeye was just as quick. He grabbed her wrist.

"Hey! It's just me," he grinned. Torunn relaxed, prying her arm away from him. She went back to digging, tossing out a variety of clothes. "Whatcha looking for?"

"Toothbrush. It may be that my brothers have no qualms about hygiene, but I certainly do." She huffed in frustration, tossing a pair of tennis shoes over her head. "Where is it?!"

Hawkeye breathed slowly. He found her beautiful like this. Fierce in all ways, but delicate as well. He could fight her one minute and be calling her a lady the next. He scooted past her, unzipping one of the front flaps. Just as he had thought. He held up the toothbrush while she continued to fling things across the room. "Hey, beautiful." Torunn stopped. She looked at him, smile forming when she saw the brush.

"Thank you, Hawk!" she went to take it from him, but he moved just out of reach. "Hawkeye? I need my toothbrush."

"Mhm."

"Give it to me, please."

"Nope."

Torunn leapt at him, laughing. Hawkeye ducked, but she caught him lower than he thought. Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him to the ground. He held up the toothbrush, flailing, pushing away. Torunn was on top of him, scrambling for her brush. Hawkeye laughed in triumph. That was until Torunn started prodding him in the ribs. He began to laugh hysterically, eyes squeezed shut. She continued poking, tickling, imploring that he give her back her brush. Hawkeye shook his head, still laughing.

"Can't… breathe…" he huffed.

Torunn giggled, swiping the brush away from him. "I stand triumphant, Hawk! Do you surrender?"

"Yes!" Hawkeye continued to laugh.

Torunn's movements stopped, but she stayed atop him. The laughter had stopped. She stared at him, lips curled into a smile. Hawkeye slowed his breathing, laughing a little awkwardly. One hand lifted, playing with her long blonde hair. Torunn moved her head closer to his hand. Slowly, she bent down over him, pressing her lips to his. Hawkeye wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. She teased at his bottom lip, and he was all but happy to oblige. They deepened the kiss. Hawkeye moaned, tugging her even closer. Torunn smiled, gently lifting away from him. They were inches apart.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey, gorgeous," Hawkeye winked.

Torunn placed another soft kiss onto his brow. "I love thee… I mean, you. You. I love… you!" Torunn laughed. Hawkeye smoothed a piece of hair away from her eyes.

"I love thee too," he joked. Becoming a little more serious, he added, "I love you."

Torunn blushed before covering his mouth again with her own.

That was when Francis Barton found his heart.

* * *

Thanks guys! This was just a drabble, really. Please R&R.

SMH


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